


Ways to Say "I Love You"

by Pthithia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pthithia/pseuds/Pthithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In quiet moments, where crowds and friends and families are absent, Enjolras thinks he can't love Grantaire more than he does now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways to Say "I Love You"

**Author's Note:**

> A brief introspection of all the ways Enjolras loves Grantaire.

Enjolras loves walking with Grantaire. The way the sun shines on those riotous purple-black curls, the rough feeling of their intertwined hands and the way his laugh carries on the wind like a summer breeze. They will talk of everything and nothing, voices filling the air with worthless prattle priceless to them. Sometimes Enjolras will look down at Grantaire, and Grantaire will look back up at Enjolras, and without even words they will know what the other thinks, like a whole conversation has passed between brief eye contact.

And sometimes Grantaire will smile and bump Enjolras with his shoulder before looking away again, squeezing his hand gently.

*

When they are at home Enjolras likes to sit by Grantaire, while working, while reading, while resting and while talking. He will take Grantaire’s hand in his and absentmindedly trace all the little nicks and scars on his calloused palms, retelling himself the stories of each.

_The first barfight._

_The time he tried to sculpt drunk._

_The split knuckles from boxing._

_The fencing accident._

Enjolras likes to run his own hands over all of them, feeling the way the skin rises and falls and goes from smooth to jagged.

Grantaire will let him, tipping his head back and closing his eyes softly, like he couldn't be more at peace.

After, while looking at his own hands, Enjolras will think that they are pale and smooth and lacking in something he can't explain.

*

At night Enjolras sleeps on the right, and Grantaire on the left, the little divot in the mattress invariably causing them to roll to the center.

It's a nifty trick, during the winter, when Grantaire can generate enough heat for the both of them.

Grantaire will run his hand down Enjolras' chest, the blonde throwing his arms over the other man's neck, keeping them locked together.

He will press his lips gently to the concave part of his temple where the heartbeat flutters, and smile.

Grantaire tilts his head up, pressing an equal kiss to Enjolras’ jaw, and whisper something to him: a joke, an offhand compliment, or just a simple "I love you".

Enjolras always smiles and returns it.

*

Late at night, if Enjolras comes in from work at the computer or simply can't get off his caffeine high, he likes to listen to the soft pattern of breath on the other side of the bed. Grantaire is a heavy sleeper, always has been, and when Enjolras can't sleep he listens to Grantaire breathe.

It's comforting in a way he never thought something could be. He likes the feeling of having someone close, calm, at peace.

Knowing it's Grantaire hightens the effect for him.

After a while Enjolras will inch a little closer, resting his head on Grantaire’s chest to feel the steady pounding of his heart, the rise and fall of his lungs.

Enjolras listens, and smiles, and sleeps at last.

*

And sometimes, rare occasion, they end up in bed at the same time. Grantaire will poke Enjolras in the kidneys, where he is most ticklish, and Enjolras will pout but smile at the dimples Grantaire gets when he laughs.

Grantaire will apologize in a coo, pulling Enjolras closer, and he only pretends to resist for a moment.

He can't imagine being truly angry when faced with those dimples, that chipped tooth, those smile lines deep from a lifetime of misery.

In sleep, they curl together like two halves of a coin, each slotting perfectly into the other, because even unconscious they love each other.

*

Other nights are not so restful. Enjolras loves the feeling of gentle stubble scratching against his skin, the rough marks Grantaire leaves on the pale skin of his neck and inner thighs.

Grantaire will press his face into Enjolras’ neck and sigh, and Enjolras will tangle his hands in those same wild curls and pull gently, urging the other man on.

Eventually they will settle together, and Enjolras adores that look on Grantaire’s face, one of anticipation before he finally, finally, _finally_ moves.

Most of all, Enjolras loves the feeling of falling apart beneath someone he loves. Grantaire runs gentle hands over his overheated skin, a low stream of words falling from his lips into Enjolras’ ear, arms trembling from exertion.

After, Enjolras pulls him in for a lazy kiss, knowing he will miss the sleep come morning and knowing equally that he doesn't really care.

*

Enjolras has not always known Grantaire was a storyteller.

Grantaire can spin worlds and kingdoms and men and women, his voice taking on a deep rumble as he paints pictures with his words, as vivid as the ones he paints with his hands.

When Enjolras has had a bad day Grantaire will open his arms, inviting him close with a smile and wink, going on about dragons and knights and damsels in distress and distressing damsels.

Grantaire refuses to read out loud to him, claiming most books and stories are generalized and stereotypical. Enjolras will agree. Grantaire’s stories have a magic touch, like they don't come from this world.

Curled on the sofa together Grantaire will run his hands through Enjolras’ blonde curls, voice growing softer and softer as Enjolras relaxes into him.

Enjolras sometimes pretends to be asleep, because when he does Grantaire will smile in a way he does for no one else, gentle and sweet, and Enjolras thinks he can't adore him more.

*

On lazy Saturdays and listless Sundays, before the drive of work and Real Life Responsibility kicks in they curl on the sofa, order pizza, set the tv to a blaring volume.

Enjolras will sit tucked into the vee between Grantaire’s thighs, resting against his chest, Grantaire tracing twirls and swirls on his skin.

It's comfortable like that, and Enjolras always wishes they had more time like that, relaxing and simply being together.

Sometimes Grantaire will wrap Enjolras close to him, pressing him tightly, as if he knows Enjolras’ thoughts and wishes the same.

*

And on warm summer nights early in June Grantaire will drag Enjolras outside, spreading the softest blankets out on the grass and forcing him to lay with him.

(It's never much of a struggle on Enjolras’ part.)

Grantaire clasps his hand, excitedly pointing out constellations millions of miles away.

_The story of Hercules._

_The pattern of Orion's Belt._

_The North Star, and the one second to the right._

Enjolras smiles, marveling at the extent of Grantaire’s knowledge. He tells stories until Enjolras silences him with his lips.

He whispers that he loves Grantaire’s stories, and Grantaire will laugh and kiss him back, rolling Enjolras to his back and tugging lightly at the blonde's shirt.

Above them, infinite space stretches out, threatening to swallow them whole, small pinpoints of fire from eons ago winking and sparkling above them, and then the night envelops them.

Enjolras loves the feel of Grantaire’s hands on his, the low tenor of his laugh, his crooked nose from two breaks, the feel of his breath on his neck and the flutter of his pulse.

Enjolras loves Grantaire. He knows he will always feel this way.

And sometimes, as the sky turns dusty rose with the morning, Grantaire will curl up by Enjolras and think the same thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
